In The Wake
by northernexposure
Summary: Janeway struggles with the consequences of her decision to 'terminate' Tuvix. Short episode addition for that episode.


**In the Wake**

Janeway suffers in the wake of her decision to 'terminate' Tuvix. Just a short episode addition to S2 episode 'Tuvix'. Janeway/Chakotay.

**A/N:** Just got as far as 'Tuvix' in my re-watch, which I remembered as being a very strong episode, and I wasn't disappointed. I'm glad they didn't pull their punches and give Janeway a comfortable way out.

* * *

That night, when she eventually sleeps, she dreams of Mark. His face looms at her out of a well of darkness that even in slumber Kathryn can recognise as being representative of her state of mind. Before, she has been comforted by his appearances, but this dream is different. He stares at her as if looking at a stranger; as if he can't quite work out who she is. Or worse, as if he knows who she is and is disappointed by what he sees. What he knows of what she has done.

"I had to do it," she tries to explain, although the words are sticky in her throat, and come out as an uncharacteristic mumble. "If there had been another way…"

Mark doesn't believe the words any more than she does. He slips away from her, instead, stepping back to be swallowed by the inky blackness of herself.

"Don't," she says. "Mark, don't go. I need…"

He steps towards her again, but this time the face isn't his. This time it is Tuvix standing before her. His eyes are clear and alive, as they were while she held the hypospray to his neck.

"You killed me," he says. "As you will kill them all."

She jolts awake with a guttural cry that is far more a yell than a scream. She is tangled in the disarrayed sheets of her bed, her nightdress so skewed and crumpled that it has ridden above her thighs. For a moment, the darkness around her is as black as her dream: cloying and thick. It is seconds before she is composed enough to ask the computer for a dim light, longer still before she has stopped shaking enough to move to the edge of the bed and sit upright. She presses her bare toes against the unyielding, utilitarian weave of standard-issue Starfleet carpet.

She is still disoriented when the door chimes. "Come in!" she says, automatically, forgetting that she is not in her ready-room and is in no fit state for visitors. The door hisses open. A figure is silhouetted against the brighter light in the corridor outside – broad-shouldered, tall. For a moment, she thinks she is still dreaming. She thinks it is Mark, and takes a swift step forward.

"Captain?"

It is not Mark. Chakotay's voice is hesitant, cautious. His face is in shadow, but she sees him move his head slightly as if he is trying to look away. Janeway is suddenly aware that she has stepped into the light, and is most definitely not in uniform. She turns, quickly, and pulls on her wrap with her back still to him.

"Captain? Are you all right?"

"Fine," she says. "Sorry, Commander. What is it?" She doesn't even know what time it is.

"I…" Chakotay takes a step forward and the door closes behind him. "I was passing, on the way to my quarters. I heard you shout. I didn't know-"

She puts a hand to her forehead, which is beginning to ache. "It – it was a bad dream, that's all," she says, still with her back to him. For some reason it takes courage for her to turn around, though it shouldn't and though it never has before. When she does, he has moved closer. His strong face is described in lines of concern so clear that it makes something unwelcome well behind her eyes. "Really," she says, roughly, holding up her hands to stop him coming closer. "I'm fine."

Chakotay nods, but does not leave. He glances away, as if weighing the odds of something, and then says. "Captain, what happened today… What you had to do…"

"Commander," she warns, to ward him off, but this time he ignores her. Chakotay steps forward and grasps her elbow, a firm movement but a gentle grip. Before she can protest, he has steered her to the bench beneath her window and pushes her gently, making her sit. He sits at her side, far enough away that they do not touch, and angles himself to face her. Unconsciously he has seated himself at her right hand, the way they would sit on the bridge.

"I won't let you do this to yourself," he says. "You made the only decision that you could. Tuvix should never have existed. Tuvok and Neelix are members of this crew - vital members."

She is shaking her head before he has even finished speaking, but he isn't finished, not even by a long chalk. She has never seen him this forceful, not even in those early days when they weren't sure there was a way to stitch together a command team out of the remnants of what scant cloth they had left.

"This wasn't your fault," he says. "You had no choice. You can't take sole responsibility for every single thing that happens here in the Delta quadrant. If you do, it will drown you. And I don't intend to let you do that, Captain."

"There's always a choice," she says, her voice more of a whisper than she intends.

"You know we were all behind you. You know we were all in agreement."

"But it was my decision," she says. "I took his life. _I _did. He was alive. A being in his own right. I looked him in the eye, and-" her voice stalls, and in the moment it takes for her to recover it, Chakotay reaches out and takes her hand. He lifts hers towards him, cupping her one with his both. It is deeply inappropriate, a distinct breach of protocol, and Mark's face is still fresh in her mind, and yet she doesn't stop him.

"There is no Starfleet here," he says, softly, after a few minutes. "Any Captain in the Alpha quadrant could have asked for guidance from Starfleet command. You don't have that support. All you have is what is on this ship. It might be all you ever have from now on, Captain, and you can't do this – this journey, this task - alone. No one could, and no one expects you to. Least of all me."

She stares at her hand, enclosed in his, and cannot remember the last time she felt another person's skin against her own. Her index finger is resting against his pulse. It is alive under her touch, slow, regular. "If we don't get home," she begins, and his fingers tighten around hers. "Chakotay, if I can't get us home-"

"We will get home," he says, interrupting. "We will get home because we are a good crew, because we are an able crew, and we – together – will find a way." He shifts, slightly, moving a little closer. "I've heard you promise us that we'll get there, as if it is down to you alone. And it isn't. So listen – _I_ promise _you_ that we will get home. I will get you back to Earth. I will get you back to Mark, Captain. I promise."

She pulls her hand away and stares out at the stars, stars that have never before held the gaze of human eyes.

"I miss sunlight," she says, eventually, because anything else she can think of to say seems entirely redundant. "Vitamin D supplements may fool the body, but they cannot fool the mind."

She catches his smile out of the corner of her eye. "Well, that might be something I can help with, actually."

She looks at him with one eyebrow raised. "Oh?"

"Paris' close-of-shift report identifies a system with an M class planet on our trajectory," Chakotay tells her. "Long-range scans reveal a temperate climate and large areas of vegetation. I would imagine Neelix will want to stop to take on whatever supplies we can harvest. It may be suitable for shore leave."

She nods, and stands. The ship is solid beneath her, and she no longer shakes. Crossing her arms, she raises her chin, feeling her loose hair brush at her back. "Let's hope so, Commander. The crew deserves some down time."

He smiles and nods, ready to take his leave.

"Make sure your name is on the leave list, Commander," she adds, as he moves to the open door. "You are not to sacrifice your own chance of R&R for the benefit of others."

Chakotay looks at her, once again in silhouette. "Aye, Captain," he says, softly, as the door closes behind him, although just for a second, she thinks he might have said her name, instead.

Just for a second, she thinks she wants him to.

[END]


End file.
